enough

Not for lack of inspiration have I been off digital expression......too much maybe. Driving on 12, heading to Hokianga harbour, the mid evening light casting a kind of magical pastel rainbow hue on the mountains and hills...... There was something basically summer about the place, like I doubt any other season exists there. And something else too. The unnameable magnetic force some places have.

The seemingly silent hours we spent walking through an underground river in a glow worm cave......stopping to stand in the dark, adjusting our eyes to the florescent living constellations above us, and their reflections in the lazy river at our feet.....unspeakable.

And then there was the hidden black sand wild surf beach we found by following footprints and disappearing bodies. We laid down next to one another in a little cove hidden from the wind but not the sun, and we played like tired little girls who were far from ready for sleep.

I was tapped by a muse more than once to write what happens to my psyche in such circumstances, but a medium was not to be had in those moments. That poetry is gone to the wind and the sand of the Northland.

The packing up is more emotional than physical. In my little red station wagon, I was picking up Aotearoa in little whirlwinds playing about the tires. I was collecting particles of hope and dreams and wishes and pain, and realizing their place in my skin and lungs and blood. Because this is how I will be traveling on. No more carrying a caravan of vehicles full of my worldly possessions to move. No more carrying dogs and cats and plants. The life I meet in the new place is all the life I need. Surprise of surprises. What I carry in my cells is enough.

to the end of the road

I had my arms out, waiting for her to land with a plop, but she was a feather. And then she settled in next to me and my nest was warmer and gladder for her presence. It was a bit like looking into a mirror, and it felt both strange and right to have constant companionship after such a long separation. And then, in the same ghost way that she materialized into my world, she was gone again. The nest was chillier and I missed her there right away. Tonight, the first night apart, is a kind of settling in to what was before, but differently. And with more warmth. My sister healed me. Of course she did. She held up herself against me so I could love in her what I had not been able to love in myself.

I finally heard my first kiwi, and had my first New Zealand oysters and finally swam nude in the Tasman. We ate like queens, we relaxed like cats, we talked about cocks and pets and parents and horrid boyfriends and the pleasures and pains of our careers so that we could more perfectly eat like queens and relax like cats.

The scales and tension come falling away in the company of a kindred. I warned my sister that she may never be content again after this, and the truth reflects back to me that after sharing this new love with her, I will be missing something as well.

Although that is all honest, it is also true that I am quite satisfied with the past 2 weeks of road tripping. From Bodega to the ashram, and the hot spring waterfalls to black sand dune beaches and glow worm caves to rope swinging into clear rivers....... from communing with 2,000 year old giant Kauri trees to snubbing ridiculous boys, it was definitely in my top road trips of all time.

Good night sweet freyakalimaeve, wherever you are over the pacific. Love and kisses and gratitude.